


i just settled in

by casual_mythologist_3791



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (to a point), Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Love Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Season/Series 04, Tea as a love language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-20
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-29 00:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30148278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casual_mythologist_3791/pseuds/casual_mythologist_3791
Summary: what if, as martin isolates himself from the world, jon were to reach out? completely by accident, of course, but is there really any such thing?
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	i just settled in

**Author's Note:**

> this is rather silly and i’m not sure it’ll go anywhere hoWEVER i like writing jon and the poor man’s anxious thought processes (me? projecting? it’s more likely than you think!) so there. also y e s i listened to stray italian greyhound on repeat while writing this can you tell  
> hope you enjoy, and remember interaction is a creator’s lifeblood!

For the third time that night, Jon reached for a cup of tea that wasn’t there. One might think he’d be out of the habit by now, having two weeks without assistant- without Martin.

Without Tim. 

Tim was on his mind, then, as he gave in and got up to get tea. Standing at the breakroom sink, he could almost feel staring at him from the favoured bean bag chair, could almost hear his self-satisfied chuckles… the teacup was overflowing. Jon shook himself gently, pouring out a touch of water and shutting off the faucet. It was so easy nowadays to drift away into memory He regretted already leaving the safety of the tape recorder- but he stayed nonetheless, drawing his cardigan close about himself as he watched the microwave spin round, and round, and round… and stop. The alarm was so  _ loud _ .

There wasn’t any tea in the cupboard. Jon supposed it made sense that Martin had been the one to replenish their stores all these years, the mother hen of their little family. The thought sauntered into Jon’s mind and itself comfortable without his say-so, the idea that the four of them had- could have?- been an odd sort of family. A horrible cocktail of raw emotions bubbled up in his chest and it was all he could do to keep from sinking to the floor in tears. 

Over the top of the guilt, the grief, the  _ love _ , he chided himself for thinking too long and too deeply. Instead, he forced himself to turn outward- what could he do about the tea? Right. Upstairs, in a tiny kitchenette at the end of a hallway that opened onto a single office. How did he know that? With a last wistful glance at the microwave and a tightening tug on his ponytail he filed it away under “Eye bullshit”. A final bracing huff, and he ventured out into the institute at large.

The halls weren’t particularly crowded, but nonetheless they were loud. People were going about their business, talking amongst themselves and pressing in on Jon’s senses like he was submerged in water. But he waded through, all the way up three floors and around the corner, down an unreasonably long hallway into the secluded kitchenette. He considered, regretted not bringing the other teacup, and decided he’d look slightly less daft carrying a cup of tea rather than a single bag.

He picked out a random mug, filled it with water, and set the microwave to go again. The Earl Grey in the cabinet was the same kind Jon remembered. He smiled softly, inhaling the familiar smell of bergamot and lemon- Martin’s smell. He hoped whoever worked through the half-ajar oak door on the far wall appreciated it. Actually, who did work up here all alone-? He decided to poke around.

The cramped office overwhelmed him with that same, familiar smell.  _ Soft, warm, lonely,  _ why did- oh. Draped over the chair, a cardigan he recognized- stack of poetry books on the desk- the  _ tea _ -

Hell. Fuck. Hell and fuck. He was borrowing Martin’s mug and drinking Martin’s tea (even though it  _ wasn’t _ , Martin wasn’t making it) and Martin was currently desperate to avoid him. Before he could drive himself to drastics, it occurred to him that he ought to do  _ something _ . What’s something? Apologize for borrowing- stealing- tea. How? Leave a note. A note and… tea! Fresh tea. 

He had to move fast. He left his own mug to steep and picked out another- a large one covered in tiny cartoon bees. Tim would’ve liked it. God, it might’ve even been his. As he filled it, he could all but hear Martin fussing-  _ it’s not real tea if it’s microwaved, it has to really soak in, honestly _ \- and the memory hurt in a confusing tangle of ways. Everything hurt like that, nowadays, and Jon was positively fed up with it. He plopped a teabag into the bee mug and started to rummage for sugar, like he knew Martin took it- there it is.

Now. How to make a mysterious mug of microwaved Earl Grey seem nonthreatening? Right, the note. Paper. Martin had sticky notes! Jon set the tea down on an empty coaster and pulled a pen and pink square of paper from the desk. 

What to write? Lord, why was he so nervous, it was just tea. A favour for a favour. It was just Martin. 

He let out a bitter chuckle. Right. Just Martin.

_ “Had to borrow tea. Sorry. _

_ Thanks.” _

Smiley face? No, too… not Jon. But there had to be something better to sign off with-

“ _ Stay safe. _

_ -Jon” _

Right. Okay. Right. Okay. Before he could second-guess it- or maybe it would be a seventh-guess at this point- he stuck the note to the mug, darted out of the office, and began the arduous journey back down to the archives. It seemed to go shorter this time. He called it the warm weight of the tea in his hands.

It’s fine, Jon kept telling himself as he read, everything’s fine. This is simple, normal, this is fine. He sipped at tea that wasn’t quite familiar and started up the tape again. It’s just Martin.

Just Martin.  
  
Jon was fucked.


End file.
